


October Skies

by metaphoricalmess



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Death, Feelings, Feelings Realization, Funeral, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jon Snow Knows Nothing, M/M, Minor Ramsay Bolton/Theon Greyjoy, Minor Theon Greyjoy/Robb Stark, No Happy Ending Fest, POV Theon Greyjoy, Theon Greyjoy Being an Asshole, Traumabonding is not real bonding, Unrequited Love, character driven, not plot heavy, what the hell is a plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:20:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26085571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metaphoricalmess/pseuds/metaphoricalmess
Summary: Theon never got a chance to confess his love before Robb died. Jon might still have a shot.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Theon Greyjoy & Jon Snow, Theon Greyjoy & Jon Snow & Robb Stark, Theon Greyjoy & Robb Stark, Theon Greyjoy/Jon Snow
Kudos: 15





	October Skies

This was supposed to be his wedding. Instead, he lay in a casket. 

Theon was too far to see. He lingered toward the back of the room and clung to his water cup. The line to pay respects to Robb stretched across the length of the room and right up to the end wall. Faces he didn’t recognize meandered aimlessly to gaze upon all of his trophies, photos, and memorabilia triumphantly placed on pillars and tables. They were things which meant nothing to them coming in, and would mean nothing to them walking out. 

The looming idea of regret got his feet to stir in the direction of the line. He thought he’d be crying. There was nothing, just the familiarity of sinking deeper into himself. 

Jon stood at the end with his hair tied back into a bun… not a great look on him. He would have said something under different circumstances. Theon could make out a few straggling tears slipping off his stoic face. When Jon noticed him approaching, he wiped them as quick as he could. 

“I didn’t see you were here.” Jon said quietly. 

Theon took a sip of his water. “Neither did I.” 

Robb always mentioned he was forced to go to wakes; to learn the etiquette of death. Theon always had a choice. Always, it was to stay home.

Jon started up again. “It almost feels like a dream. Slow motion, stuff like that.” 

“I don’t follow.” 

“You know,” he sniffed. “Like it’s not really happening.” 

“Denial.” Theon clicked his tongue. “It’s common, I figure. Then you’ll be angry, and sad, and… I forget how the rest go.” 

“I think it’s something like that.” 

They both found it in them to smile. It was easy for Theon, but looked a little painful to see Jon try it out. He had a pout to his lips accentuated by grief, and any pull upward was a slight to his nature. 

“I’ve missed you.” Jon said. It seemed truthful. “How’ve you been?” 

Terrible was the real answer. Borderline alcoholic was crass, but true as well. 

“Good. Dated a few girls here or there. More or less. And there’s a new guy. He’s a bit weird looking if I’m being honest, kind of like a hobbit. But he’s nice. Real charmer.” 

“That’s really good,” Jon said, and smiled, too excited to be hearing about Theon’s relationship escapades, “Last I heard you weren’t but you look, I don’t know… Good.” 

Theon suppressed an urge to laugh at him. 

“Thanks.” 

Talking without the unnecessary bickering proved to be somewhat of a success. Theon wanted to insult the way he looked, and the way he talked, but he couldn’t bring himself to be that much of an ass. Not here. 

The line was moving. Jon turned back to face front. He tapped his foot rapidly, anxiously from what Theon could tell. In an attempt to reconcile his nasty thoughts, Theon placed his hand on Jon’s shoulder and squeezed. Jon gave him a glance, then moved his hand to gently squeeze back. 

When it came to seeing his dead brother, Jon took to it a lot smoother than Theon imagined. He knelt, whispered a few nothings, and stared for quite a long time. There was no telling what he was thinking at that moment. Jon had been jealous of Robb, he may have even hated him at some points in his life, but nothing could have broken their brotherly bond. Soon he walked back down the aisle separating the chairs and wiped something from his face. 

It was his turn. 

Theon could feel the slow, hard thumps of his heart. He blamed the sickness of his stomach on his inexperience with dead bodies. No, it wasn’t that. Till now he felt nothing, but he could see Robb’s light hands appear in his few, the black suit he wore, and some parts of his face beneath the dark mahogany casket. Theon had to close his eyes till he bumped lightly into the side, then drew one soft breath. 

_”What are you afraid of, Theon?”_

_Robb lay on his back atop the hood of his white pick-up. Theon lay beside him, staring up at the pinkish orange sunset. There was a great cliff in front of them that dropped into a thick, dark forest, and behind them, an open prairie that swayed with the gentle breaths of the wind. A constant buzz from mosquitos rang despite his incessant swatting. Nothing was still that summer._

_“Serious answer?”_

_“Obviously.”_

_“I really don’t know.” Theon said. “Spiders are pretty terrifying.”_

_Robb laughed. It wasn’t that funny, really, Theon was trying to be honest. His face burned with embarrassment._

_“Oh yeah? What are you afraid of then?”_

_His laugh slowly died off. Robb turned his head to stare, which Theon saw out of his peripherals. He didn’t care to return the look._

_“It’s stupid, I know, but… Losing my memory.”_

_Theon glanced at him and furrowed his brow. “That’s irrational.”_

_“I’m serious. When I die, I won’t remember anything. Not you, or my family, or anything I’d done.”_

_Robb sighed. He looked so innocent for a twenty two year old man. Theon thought it was his eyes. They were always so wide, so blue._

_“I think that’s the point, Robb. I think other people are supposed to remember for you.”_

He looked normal. Asleep and not breathing, but normal. 

The work of a mortician, he supposed. As he inspected closer, his skin looked more like wax, barely holding itself together. The most jarring detail had to be his cleanly shaven face. Robb hated shaving anywhere and barely tolerated trimming his beard. 

Theon put the back of his hand against his jaw quickly. Cold. He pressed into Robb’s chest and swore he could feel something moving underneath. The second time he pressed: nothing. 

“Hey,” Theon whispered. “I’m glad you dressed for the event.” 

Robb would have punched him in the shoulder. He winced. Talking to a corpse with so many people around was an awkward phenomenon considered by many to be normal. Their eyes felt so heavy. 

He was glad Robb died when he did. Happy. Successful. It was a sickening thought, to be happy for it, but the circumstances weren’t grim. To the doctors, he felt nothing. To his family, he was a hero. And to his girlfriend? Her first love, her one true love. There was glory in his tragedy, something Theon always thought would happen to a guy like him. 

Perfect boy. He’d stay that way for eternity. 

Theon found his fingers in Robb’s reddish curls. They’d lost their natural bounce, falling flat against his skull and barely shining when the light hit them. There was a small cave to the back of his head, slightly visible to the eye. He wondered if anyone else saw, or if his mind was conjuring something twisted. 

He backed from the casket. That was enough. 

As he walked back down the aisle, a sickening pain akin to hunger slowly seeped from somewhere unknown. His bones caught between going forward and turning back, so he stopped. This was, indefinitely, the last time he’d see Robb in the flesh. The paralyzing yearn to turn and do something more existed in the same space as the urge to leave. 

“Theon?” 

Jon’s voice. He was coming over with that ‘let me help you’ look in his eyes. Theon decided that, in that moment, Jon was a prick. 

He restarted himself and brushed past the bastard, making pace for the exit. The faces of onlookers were beginning to fuzz. 

“Theon, wait.” 

He refused and pushed open the tall oak doors. Some wanderers of the hallway jumped back at the sudden movements. Theon jerked his head to the right, then to left till he spotted the restroom signs. 

Nervous energy surged through him as he power-walked between those he knew and those he didn’t. Sansa’s red hair flashed through the corner of his eye along Ned’s broad figure. Gods, he hoped they didn’t notice. 

Theon turned his head back in hopes that Jon would be off his trail. He was only a few paces behind being swallowed by the growing crowd. His eyes were locked on Theon and refused to let go. 

“Stupid—” 

He felt himself hit another body smaller than his. Before he could snark at whoever stood in his way his eyes met a pair of wide blue ones. 

Tully blue, and teary. 

Catelyn, in all her harrowing glory, looked more like a ghost than a mother. Theon’s heart stopped. 

“I’m sorry.” He said quickly. 

“Theon,” she murmured. “Ned told me you wouldn’t come.” 

“I changed my mind.” 

“It doesn’t look that way.” 

Theon was transfixed. “I had to see him one last time.” 

Her eyes looked past him and turned cold. Jon must have stopped dead in his tracks behind him. 

“Come to dinner tonight,” she said with urgency. “The girls won’t mind. I’ll have something important for you there. From him.” 

“I… don’t know if I can—” 

“Come.” Catelyn interrupted with a firm tongue. “I won’t take no for an answer.” 

There was nothing more to say. He gave her a stiff nod, then watched as she made haste for Ned and Sansa down the hallway. Jon approached cautiously from the side like a little deerling avoiding a mountain lion. 

“Hey,” he said. “You alright?” 

“What does it matter to you, Snow?” Theon bit back. There was no reason for it, no prompt to give Jon a hard time, but it felt right. “Do you get a kick out of pitying me?” 

Jon hardened. Theon could see it in the harsh grimace that graced his face. 

“Stop following me. I don’t want to hear whatever sappy shit you were about to say, in fact, I don’t want to hear anything you have to say, because you’re the last person on earth I’d _ever_ want to listen to.” 

Too far. Instead of hardening, his face slowly dropped into a miserable, lonely look. 

“Alright.” 

Jon was gone faster than Catelyn was. Theon watched him till his black curls disappeared, then sulked his way into the bathroom. 

It was only eleven in the morning.


End file.
